


In which Irene is sick and tired of Manly Pining

by thepurplewombat



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: "Irene I don't think John likes me", "Irene I hugged John and he smelled like tea", "Irene I want to lick John's wrinkles is that bad?", "Irene I'm so sad pls halp", "Irene do you think he would get it if I climbed into his lap and cuddled him", "Irene my face is leaking again", "Irene should I hire a plane to write SH loves JW on the sky", "Irene should I start doing the sheet thing again?", "irene how do I tell him I like him", "irene why does john think I like you", Irene is fed up, in the past 24 hours, irene is sick and tired, she has gotten 27 sad pining texts from Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9670349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepurplewombat/pseuds/thepurplewombat
Summary: From this post: http://love-in-mind-palace.tumblr.com/post/155669916951/if-they-bring-back-irene-adler-in-tfp-i-will-stop





	

The door to 221B bangs open. John is still turning when it closes again, and by the time he’s facing it, Irene Adler is already halfway across the room.

“Er,” he says.

“YOU!” Irene shrieks. “You _idiot_! You blind, fumbling fool!”

She reaches him and pokes his chest with a sharp fingernail, and John takes a step back.

“Listen, Irene, I don’t know what you’re-”

“Oh, don’t start with me, Watson, because I’ve been on a plane for the past forty hours _because you’re an idiot._ Did you seriously tell Sherlock Holmes to text me back? Are you that blind?”

John grabs her hand before she can poke him again, and stares at her in confusion.

“ _What?_ Of course I did. You…like him? Right? I mean, you do, don’t you?”

At this point, she sighs and shakes her head, a “more in sorrow than in anger” sort of mood that, considering the amount of anger she’s displayed thus far, must mean an impressive sorrow.

“Watson. I need you to think back to our conversation at Battersea. What did you think that I was telling you?”

“That you’re in love with Sherlock. Seemed a bit obvious, you know.”

She stares at him blankly.

“John. I’m _gay_. I don’t like penises. Not even penises as pretty as Sherlock’s is bound to be. I want you to listen to me very carefully. Are you listening?”

John nods. He’s not entirely sure why he hasn’t tried to throw her out yet, aside from a vague idea that it might be harder than it seems.

“Are you sure you’re listening? Okay, here we are: Sherlock Holmes is gay. He’s gay. Very gay. Gayer than a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide.. And he’s as much in love with you as you are with him. Do you think you have it now, or do I need to draw a picture?”

John nods, slowly, and Irene smiles and pats him on the cheek.

“Good. Try to work on your communication skills, Watson, you’re going to need them.”

And off she goes, trailing an expensive scarf and the scent of her perfume.


End file.
